


good friends

by anotherbuskitten



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3198890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherbuskitten/pseuds/anotherbuskitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing was, before the chamber opened, Tom had been a good friend to Rubeus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	good friends

**Author's Note:**

> the ending's a bit rushed so sorry about that

Oh, Rubeus knew the friendship was based on the fact he could intimidate anyone Tom couldn’t, on the fact that Tom liked to shock people, on the looks of confusion when they saw the two together.

He also knew it wouldn’t last. He knew that Tom would drop him for his parentage, his blood, his stupidity, his house and any other number of things.

Tom didn’t know about his mother yet. When they’d met one of the first things Tom had asked was “Are you a pureblood?” and Rubeus had stuttered through a reply that “Yes, my parents are both magical.”

It isn’t lying, he comforts himself. Not really.

/

Tom was aware he couldn’t stay friends with Rubeus forever. Much as he liked having someone who had never been afraid of him, someone who was loyal no matter their differences, someone who seemed to genuinely _like_ him it couldn’t last. He knew that.

Rubeus was different in all the wrong ways: he is slow and unaccustomed to magic, he is obsessive about beasts and half-breeds and prone to finding danger, he has a funny way of speaking and is completely unable to tell when people are being cruel to him.

And above all else he is _big_. Much too big.

Tom has his suspicions about his companion’s size but keeps them to himself because as much as he is loath to admit it he does like the friendship.

/

Rubeus comes to Hogwarts when Tom is thirteen and when he is called forth to the hat the stool breaks under is weight and the students all laugh. This is not a heroic moment in Tom’s extremely unheroic life just a time when he sees showing humour as a waste and anyway the stool should surely be magiced not to break.

The boy is sorted in Gryffindor and Tom forgets him.

/

Hogwarts isn’t made for half-giants and it shows. It shows when he stumbles on the too-small stairs, when he knocks brick dust from the roofs of doors, when he sits to eat and the bench bends slightly under him. It shows when he does magic and his hand dwarfs his wand, it shows when he stirs a potion too fast or too heavily, it shows when he needs a new bed because his is too short.

It shows when he walks down corridors heads and shoulders above everyone else. It shows when he raises a hand to answer and causes a breeze to hit the student in front of him.

It shows in everything he does and does not do and he hates it.

/

In Tom’s first year he was small and out of place and everything was a surprise to him. He wasn’t able to show his shock to his peers because he needed to keep the illusion that he was not only pureblood but wizard-raised as well.

If he had been as intimidating as Hagrid he would have used it.

/

The first time Tom takes proper notice of Rubeus is after a quidditch game. Tom finds quidditch unbearably dull but plays anyway because it is a wizarding staple. As keeper he requires little skill and even less teamwork.

He plans on dropping it when he turns fifteen and receives a prefect badge so he can say that with that and the approaching OWLs he has too many responsibilities to continue.

This particular game is against Ravenclaw and to his relief is not long-lasting; over in just under an hour with his skills only coming into play twice.

After the match he is patted enthusiastically on the back and shouted that there was a party going on. He nodded and walked over to the changing rooms where he’d be alone as the others would wear their uniforms to woo girls.

He finished his shower in satisfaction and towled off. Tom took the longer route back to the castle, up by the forest, so as to avoid the party a little longer.

He heard the other boy before he saw him which was quite a feat considering Hagrid’s size but his lungs matched the rest of his body.

Hagrid was laughing at something; huge rumbling chuckles interspaced with ridiculous giggles. Tom stopped a metre away to stare at the huge boy and the tiny griffon jumping at his face and flapping one wing frantically.

Hagrid pushed the tiny creature away from him with a little snort and held it back with two giant fingers.

“Hol’ still would ya. I need ta get this – aw get off – bloody animal, tha’s it, good boy, there we go.”

Tom watched in fascination as Hagrid tied a makeshift bandage and splint around the griffon’s right wing.

“There. I’ll take you up to Pr’fessor Kettleburn tomorrow, a’right.” He stood up carefully, slipping the griffon into one huge pocket with a surprising gentleness.

“You’re not taking it up to the castle?” Tom spoke before he could stop himself, the words spilling out in obvious surprise at this disregard for rules from a first-year Gryffindor.

Hagrid jumped in shock and tripped a little; the griffon in his pocket let out a small mewl of discomfort. “Oh, I di’nt see you there. I err…I ain’t takin’ nothin’ with me, what’re you talkin’ ‘bout?”

Tom frowned at him then turned his frown to the tufty head poking out of the pocket in curiosity.

Hagrid blushed. “Jus’ for the night, so he don’t get hurt while he can’ fly. His parents’re gone.”

Tom started in shock for a second before scolding himself for his stupidity; there was no way this oaf knew about the orphanage.

“You won’ tell will you?” Hagrid mumbled uncertainly. “He’s only a little-un and he needs takin’ care of and he ain’t even a little bit dangerous.”

Tom shook his head in thought and the younger boy’s face lit up.

“Thank you! Thank you so much! Hey, uh, you wanna hold ‘im?” Hagrid was already lifting the little thing out a holding it out by the time Tom realised what had happened. He cursed himself for a second time that night.

He stretched out a tentative hand to the beast and gave a small stroke on the head. It chirruped and fluttered its wings at him. Tom couldn’t help but unconsciously melt a little inside; he steeled himself against the feeling and withdrew his hand. “We should go up to the castle.” He said stiffly, turning away before he could catch Hagrid’s grin.

/

The next day he had put the encounter to one side. Tom never forgot anything; especially things that could be used as leverage against someone.

Hagrid could probably lever most things he thinks the next morning as he watches the large boy lumber in and perch at the end of the Gryffindor table. It sagged a little under his weight.

He observed Hagrid from then and how others reacted to him. It appeared that it would be almost too easy to manipulate the boy into becoming his.

As ever in these things, there was a catch that manifested itself in the slowly evaporating remains of Tom’s conscience.

The catch was that Hagrid was a genuine as it was possible for a person to be and Tom was unused to people without ulterior motives.

The catch was that Tom was already learning ways to leave humanity in the dust and Hagrid was desperate to fit in with it.

The catch was that even Tom Marvolo Riddle had a heart; even if he didn’t want one.

The catch was that everybody makes mistakes and Rubeus was the perfect patsy.

/

Of course they both knew the friendship could never last. That is not the point.

The point is that when Tom was fifteen he wanted nothing more than to show Rubeus the basilisk and when Rubeus was twelve wanted nothing more than for Tom to forget his bitterness and live.

The point is that people rarely get want they want.


End file.
